Babysitting Detail
by hmmga
Summary: SEQUEL TO A STUDY IN FOUR. It's almost the end of John and Sherlock's second year at Hogwarts, but being given a certain blue-haired-boy to look after turns out to be more trouble than they expected… Rated T for sporadic swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back!**

**This story is the sequel to **_**A Study in Four**_**. You don't have to read that first, but it may help for you to acclimatise yourself to my universe, and my version of the characters. This isn't a proper mystery, more like a series of drabbles to tide you lot over until I can write the third instalment (which is going to be epic, just so you know). I'm focussing more on character development rather than a complex story line for this one.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock, in any shape or form.**

**As usual, reviews are appreciated, I was thrilled by the really positive response to my last fic, so thank you to everyone who commented! It was really inspiring!**

**Chapter 1**

It was almost the end of May, and at three o'clock on Friday afternoon the whole castle breathed a sigh of relief. The exams were over for another year. Gradually the students began to spill out onto the Hogwarts grounds, and soon the lake was surrounded by people enjoying the summer heat. Amongst them were the two second years, Sherlock and John.

Sherlock didn't particularly like outside. Sunlight hurt his eyes, and pollen made his nose run, but he was feeling restless, and John had been complaining about being trapped in the library for too long. So they found a shady spot by a beech tree, and began to practise their unarmed combat. Soon they had a ring of onlookers. Sherlock had improved greatly under John's guidance, and his strategies were slowly becoming more and more complex. However John still had the upper hand through sheer experience, and his strong beater's arms. Today he was on sparkling form.

"I win," he announced, and Sherlock surrendered, grinning.

"I didn't see-" began Sherlock, but his voice cracked, setting him coughing and spluttering.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," he croaked, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Hay fever."

"John!"

A distraction had arrived in the form of Harry, John's first-year brother. Sherlock flopped down onto the grass to avoid him; the boy had irritated him ever since he had wrongly predicted his sorting. Despite being an heir of Hufflepuff, Harry was in Gryffindor. As the boy began telling the 'hilarious tale' of what happened during his last exam. Sherlock leant against the trunk of the tree, enjoying the warmth against his skin.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock groaned and opened one eye blearily as Molly Hooper settled herself beside him. The younger Ravenclaw had positively glued herself to him at the beginning of the year, and wouldn't leave his alone. Of course John thought it was hilarious that he'd got himself a 'girlfriend'. He had taken to leaving when the first-year arrived. He had hoped she would have taken offense by now, but some people just couldn't take a hint.

He shuffled away from her, and collided with something hard.

"Ouch!"

The boy he'd cracked heads with veered away from him violently, yelping.

"Watch it!"

Sherlock just stared back. The Gryffindor glared at him with shallow blue eyes. The very look of his rat-like face annoyed Sherlock.

"You should watch where you're going," the rat-boy snapped.

"Easy, Anderson," said his friend beside him. "I'm sure it was an accident."

The boy just muttered angrily, scrabbling to his feet and striding away.

"Don't mind him," said the other Gryffindor. "He's in with the popular lot. He was only here because they're on the Quidditch pitch. I'm Greg, by the way. Greg Lestrade."

"Holmes."

"Yeah, I know," he grinned. Sherlock shrugged and pulled out the morning's _Prophet_.

"Anything interesting?"

John had settled down opposite, his little brother close by.

"Just the goblin treaty," he said. "A celebrity marriage… they caught the Leeds triple-murderer by the way, it was the gardener. Apparently nobody noticed the earring."

The two shared a knowing look. Sherlock had known it from the very beginning; it seemed the anonymous owl had paid off. But then he was distracted as he noticed a tiny little article underneath an advert for the new nimbus.

"John-" he said seriously, his voice cracking again. He cleared his throat hurriedly. "Look at this."

He shoved the article in front of John. Mr Carson had been found dead.

"Oh my God."

"He was killed, and then dumped there. No trace of the killer."

"Well there wouldn't be," said John. "Not if it was the same person…" he broke off as Sherlock beamed.

"Excellent, John, you're learning to think at last. No, I'm afraid there's no hope."

"What are you two on about?" asked Lestrade.

"Nothing," said John quickly before Sherlock could speak. "Nothing at all."

XXX

The next morning, Sherlock joined John at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast.

"Morning," he said. He raised his eyebrows when Sherlock struggled to form a coherent answer.

"Shut up," he rasped at last. "I think… oh go away, Mycroft!"

Sherlock's brother had appeared out of nowhere, he took one look at Sherlock, and burst out laughing.

"Your voice is breaking," he said gleefully. "Good luck, little brother, you never quite know what you're going to end up with."

Sherlock merely glowered as Mycroft swaggered away.

"What are we doing today?" he croaked. Halfway through the sentence his voice dropped down an octave. John bit back a snigger.

"We are going to relax, Sherlock. We need a break."

"You need a break, but I'm bored."

At that moment, Harry Potter and Hermione Weasley walked into the great hall for breakfast. Their presence had become a regular occurrence as they were leading the talks of the negotiations with the goblins. Today however, they had a small boy trailing behind them.

"Who's that?" whispered John.

"Teddy Lupin," Sherlock replied. John waved when the pair glanced their way, and Harry's face lit up when he spotted the two boys, the same way that Sherlock's did when he had an idea…

"Oh no," Sherlock groaned as Harry made his way towards them. "Yes, alright," he said. "We'll take Teddy."

"But how – oh, never mind. Thanks boys, I really appreciate it. I was landed with him last minute, and don't really want to take him with me."

"That's fine, and no, I wouldn't be offended."

"What?" chipped in the woman. "Why would you be offended?"

"He wants to ask me to keep him away from the Slytherins," he said. "That's fine."

"Teddy," said Harry. "This is Sherlock and John. They're going to look after you today."

"Harry," said the woman anxiously. "Are you sure?"

"Positive,"

"Don't worry, Mrs Weasley," said John. "He'll be safe with us. Right, Teddy?"

The little boy peeked out from behind Harry's legs and grinned. As John watched, his hair turned bright turquoise.

"Wha-"

He's a metamorphmagus," Sherlock explained. "He can't control it yet, but he's only little."

"I'm not little!" piped up Teddy. "I'm seven!"

John laughed. "Are you hungry, Teddy? There's still some breakfast left."

The boy nodded, and Sherlock scrambled to his feet to make room.

"Whoa," said Harry. "You've grown."

"State the obvious, why don't you," sighed Sherlock, but John agreed with Harry. Sherlock was now the taller one, a mass of spindly limbs, elbows and knees. He saw his friend glance at Mrs Weasley.

_Oh no,_ he thought. _He's going to-_

"Congratulations by the way Mrs Weasley."

She just looked confused.

"Sherlock…"

"Oh, come on John," he whined. "I'm bored, and besides, she will find out soon enough."

"Just ignore him," said John firmly.

"Hermione, let's go," said Harry. "Teddy, we'll be back for you at six o'clock. Make sure you have lunch and dinner, and be good!"

"Yes Harry," he smiled meekly. As soon as the man was out of sight, it changed into a wicked grin.

"So is Harry your uncle?" asked John. "Where are your parents today?"

"He's my god-father," he said carefully. "He looks after me sometimes."

"So what-"

"_John_," Sherlock interrupted. He mouthed the word 'orphan' behind Teddy's back, and John felt a rush of sympathy towards the blue-haired boy.

"How about," said Sherlock. "We show you around the castle? I've got some frogs in the potions lab we can-"

"NO!" cried John. "You are NOT going to induct Teddy into your world of blood and guts, and there's no way I'm doing _that_ again!"

"Can we go outside?" asked the child eagerly, practically bouncing on his seat.

"Yeah," said John, grinning at Sherlock's unhappy expression. "That's a great idea."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sherlock was embarrassed to discover that he'd fallen asleep on the grass, but was even more disconcerted to find his own green-grey eyes watching him.

"Teddy don't do that," he moaned. He looked past his smaller double to where John was sat reading. The sun was lower in the sky. It was about five-thirty, at a guess.

"You talk in your sleep," Teddy informed him.

"I do?" Sherlock asked, trying to see where this was going. He'd ask what he was dreaming about next…

"What's a wanker?"

John spluttered, sitting bolt upright. Sherlock was too stunned to react.

"Where did you hear that?" John gasped.

"He said it," said Teddy, pointing to Sherlock. "When he was sleeping. What is it?"

"My father,"

"Sherlock," sighed John. "It's a bad word, Teddy. Don't repeat it, okay?"

"Okay."

As he looked at John, Teddy's hair lightened, showing them what a blonde Sherlock would look like. It was fascinating, the way he reacted to the appearance of those around him. Sherlock sat up, not wishing to fall asleep again.

"Sherlock," whined Teddy. "I'm stuck with my jigsaw."

Sherlock shifted over to help him with a sigh. These children's toys were so tedious.

All of a sudden, everything went dark. Sherlock stiffened, night wasn't supposed to fall that quickly. He reached out and grabbed Teddy's hand.

"Don't let go," he whispered to the boy. "John?"

"I'm-"

There were several flashes of light. Sherlock dragged Teddy to the ground, but he heard John cry out.

"Sherlock!"

There were more flashes, but these went in the opposite direction. Some people had some to help. Sherlock dragged Teddy away, looking for a way out of the black patch. They gasped as they ran back into the bright sunlight. Teddy fell to the floor, shivering violently, and Sherlock took off his school robes to wrap him up, scowling at the grass stains on his trousers.

"Teddy? Teddy, look at me."

The black fog behind them cleared, revealing a handful of teachers. John's book was lying abandoned on the grass.

"Mr Holmes!" cried Professor Sprout. "Are you alright?"

"Where's John?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"We don't know," she said grimly. "Did you see who attacked you?"

"No."

Beside him, Teddy started to cry.

"Go to the hospital wing," Professor McGonagall instructed. "I need to contact Harry."

Sherlock helped Teddy to his feet, supporting him as he led him through the castle.

"Oh, hello," called Mrs Hudson. "I was wondering when I'd see you again. Don't worry, Minerva sent me a message, I know exactly what happened."

After lifting Teddy onto a bed, Sherlock collapsed into the adjacent chair. He was beginning to shake now. He groaned inwardly, shock was such nuisance.

Mrs Hudson approached them with blankets, but Teddy refused to take off Sherlock's robe. He did let her tuck her in though, and his hair gained a hint of strawberry blonde. He was asleep moments later.

"Teddy!"

"Be quiet!" hissed Mrs Hudson as Harry burst into the room. Luckily Teddy barely stirred.

"What happened?" he asked Sherlock.

"We – we-"

"Alright," he sighed as Sherlock's voice cracked again. He obviously mistook it as emotion.

"They took John!"

"Yes," he frowned. "Took him right off the grounds."

"They were after Teddy."

"I expect so. Probably looking for a way to get to me. Have you no idea who it was?"

"No, it was too dark. What was that spell?"

"We're not sure," Harry ran a hand through his hair. "But whatever it was, it cost us. We were at a crucial stage in the goblin negotiations. Dark magic, perhaps. Some people are suggesting that it wasn't human magic, they believe the goblins are trying to sabotage the peace treaty."

"I doubt it."

"So do I," admitted Harry. "Goblins wouldn't do something so dishonourable, not when their honour is what's being offered."

"Harry!" called another voice. Sherlock grimaced, it was Weasley. He strode in, accompanied by Mrs Weasley and a handful of Aurors.

"We've had a message," said Weasley. He handed Harry a small roll of parchment.

"What does it say? I don't speak gobbledegook."

"We've sent a copy to the ministry for translation."

"Can I see?" asked Sherlock. He glanced at it and snorted. "Yep, definitely wizards."

"But that's a goblin," protested Weasley.

"Look at the handwriting," said Sherlock. "When was the last time you saw a goblin with rounded handwriting? There's also a fatal grammatical error. They're obviously _trying_ to say that they've taken Teddy Lupin…"

"What" bellowed Weasley. "But Teddy's there!"

This shout had startled Teddy awake.

"Well done, Weasley," sighed Sherlock. "An excellent observation. Anyway, whoever did this has made the effort to learn gobbledegook, but there are certain inflections that genuine goblins use. This sentence for instance: 'We have taken Teddy Lupin' is technically correct, but they've used the wrong version of 'taken'. They should have said 'agelejok', which means 'taken as in stolen', but instead they used 'agelejik', which actually implies 'borrowed'."

"Harry," whimpered Teddy. Harry sat down with his godson.

"You speak gobbledegook?" asked Mrs Weasley, obviously impressed.

"I get bored a lot," he shrugged.

"Teddy is here," Harry said, "But they've taken Sherlock's friend, John Watson. They must have got mixed up."

"Definitely wizards," muttered Mrs Weasley. "How are we supposed to find Watson?"

"He'll find his way back to us," said Sherlock confidently. "He can take care of himself. I don't suppose you've been at the end of one of his stunners, have you?"

"That's a fifth year spell," said Hermione.

"I was bored, we had a little practise," he laughed. "I was unconscious for a week."

"Oh so _that's_ what happened," sighed Mrs Hudson. "I never did figure out what you two had been up to."

"What if they took his wand?"

"He's still capable of defending himself. His dad was a soldier."

The door opened again, and Harry Watson ran inside, closely followed by Molly Hooper. And behind them… Sherlock glared at his brother, but Mycroft seemed genuinely concerned.

"Are you alright, Sherlock?"

"I'm fine, they didn't touch me."

"Where's John?" asked Harry in a panicked voice.

"It's all my fault," sobbed Teddy. Immediately all the adults turned to reassure him.

"I doubt they would have taken him far from Hogsmeade," said Sherlock. "If their real target is the goblin treaty, then it makes sense to stay close…" he checked his watch. "Oh, come on, John where are you…"

He hoisted himself up on the chair, tucking his feet beneath him anxiously.

The adults just stared for a while, and then Harry snapped back into action.

"Ron, keep the Aurors searching, all night if you must. John will be in danger the moment they realise he's not Teddy. I'll join you soon, but I need to get Teddy home. Hermione, send a message to the goblins, let them know the situation. Remember, it's wizards doing this, make sure they know that we will not be holding them responsible."

"Alright, Teddy, let's go home, yes?"

The little boy nodded and slid off the bed.

"What is he wearing?" gasped Weasley as he caught a glimpse of the Slytherin badge.

To everyone's astonishment, Teddy ran and flung his arms around Sherlock, mumbling something incoherent. Sherlock hugged him awkwardly back, relieved when Harry gently prised him away.

"Come on, Teddy, you need to give that back."

Harry was now fighting a losing battle trying to get Teddy to let go of Sherlock's robe. Sherlock could see Mycroft itching to jump in and help.

"Don't worry," said Sherlock. "He can keep it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, I'm just going to reply to a few reviews…**

**Mist shadow, at this point, James Sirius is at most a year old, and Albus Severus hasn't even been thought of. Teddy is only seven, after all.**

**Himitsutsubasa, I doubt very much that we have met before, unless you happen to live in the Ascot vicinity…**

**But anyway, here is chapter three.**

**Chapter 3**

The first thing he felt was cold.

The next was wet.

As he woke, he became gradually aware of the crushing racket of birdsong. But there was another sound, mixed amongst it.

A voice.

"John!"

John recognised the voice. He had heard it recently… yesterday? The day before?

"John!"

He wanted to respond, but his body wasn't working. Nothing was working.

"John!"

Hands on his arms, his shoulders, turning him over. He hadn't even realised he was on his front.

"John, can you hear me?"

Hands on him again, lifting him up. Something soft wrapped around him. It was warm. He let himself drift off again, he felt safe…

When he regained consciousness he was able to open his eyes. His brain still felt fuzzy, but it was working well enough for him to discern that he wasn't in his bed at home. He jumped as a warm pressure was applied to his hand.

"John."

The voice was odd, deeper than it should have been. He recognised it, but at the same time it was the voice of a stranger.

"Look at me, John."

A boy's face swam towards him, icy green eyes concerned, but there was a blackness settling on the scene like a shroud…

XXX

Sherlock watched as his friend's eyes rolled back into his head. Beside him, Mrs Hudson leaned forwards again, checking his pulse, his breathing, his temperature methodically.

"He's not responding," said Sherlock in disbelief. "What about his brother?"

"Harry will be coming up directly after breakfast. He may not know that they've found him yet; I think the general consensus was to let him sleep… We're very lucky Mr Potter found him when he did, he was moments away from hypothermia setting in."

"Harry," mumbled John. Both of them froze as he stirred again. With a moan he opened his eyes.

"What – where am I?"

"You're in the Hospital wing," said Mrs Hudson gently.

"H-hospital? Am I hurt? Oh God, is mum here? I didn't mean to, I didn't realise it was loaded. Dad's going to be so angry…"

"John, calm down you're going to be fine."

"It just went off in my hands! I've never shot anything before."

"John…"

"Where am I? This doesn't look much like St Bart's."

Mrs Hudson intervened, forcing John to lie back down. After he had quietened down, there was a knock on the door, and an exhausted Harry Potter walked in, closely followed by Harry Watson.

"Harry!" cried John. He hugged his brother, staring over his shoulder. "You're not my dad."

"No," said Harry Potter.

"Is he coming for me?"

"I – I dunno," said Potter, as the younger Watson stared in shock. "I can contact him if you'd like."

"Yes please."

Sherlock gasped, then ran over to Mrs Hudson, whispering in her ear. She nodded, and spoke a few quiet words to John's brother. Sherlock raced out of the room.

"Wait! Mr Potter! Harry!"

Harry turned. "Yes Sherlock?"

"Don't try and send that message. John's father died in Afghanistan."

"_What?_"

"Something's affected his memory. It could be shock or concussion… or something - something a bit more magical."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Merlin's beard. What about his mother?"

"She's an alcoholic, and a muggle, so she couldn't come here anyway, even if she wanted to."

"Right," sighed Harry. "I'll bear that in mind. Thank you Sherlock, I have to get back to Hogsmeade."

OOO

When Sherlock returned to the hospital wing Harry was gone, and John was curled up on his own.

"Oh, hello again," he said. "I'm John, by the way, I don't think I had a proper chance to introduce myself earlier."

Sherlock felt his mouth drop open.

"John, I've known you for…" but he stopped, he didn't want to frighten him. "Don't you remember me?"

He was considered for a while.

"I've definitely seen you _somewhere_ before. In the park perhaps, that seems to ring a few bells… I – where am I?"

"You're at Hogwarts."

"Where's that, is it in London?"

XXX

John was feeling confused. He had been awake for hours, but nobody was explaining anything. They had given him a couple of newspapers. Out of boredom he had read through them, but they were strange, full of words he didn't understand, people and places he didn't recognise, and strange pictures that _moved_. The latest one had pages missing.

He looked up as the door opened to see the black-haired boy from earlier. He was carrying a canvas bag.

"I brought you these," he said nervously. He reached into the bag, and pulled out some clean clothes. "I had to talk to Peter for a full five minutes before he agreed to fetch them."

"Thank you," said John politely. He wondered why the boy was complaining about talking.

"I also brought this," said the boy, pulling out a large book. "It's the scrapbook that you don't know that I know about. I thought it might… help you remember."

John nodded, his eyes drooping.

"You should get some sleep."

"I don't want to sleep," mumbled John. The boy sighed, smiling a little as he muttered something about role reversal.

XXX

When John was asleep Mrs Hudson came back into the room. One look from Sherlock was all it took to give him a diagnosis.

"Badly-cast obliviate," she said. "He should be alright, but it may take time."

"Time," muttered Sherlock. "We don't have _time_. Whoever did this has probably cleared out by now. If your prisoner escapes, it's never a good idea to stick around."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_The boy's strange eyes faded away as John succumbed to sleep, but the sleep was not the peaceful blackness he'd been expecting. All of a sudden he was five years old, trailing after his mother and father, who were pushing a buggy holding a sleeping Harry. They stopped at a bench to eat the biscuits they'd brought. John, however, was restless, so went to a fallen tree trunk a short distance away. He walked backwards and forwards along the top, perfectly balanced until a scuffling made him look down. He jumped away from his parents onto the ground, and found a boy huddled there. John had never seen anyone quite like him. He was scrawny, with black curls, and eyes that seemed to flick between green and grey._

"_Hello," said John._

_The boy didn't answer. He seemed scared, but his eyes appraised John coldly._

"_Lockie!" called a boy's voice in the distance. "Lockie, where are you?"_

_There was a moment's silence, and then a man bellowed: "SHERLY!"_

_The boy visibly trembled; eyes wide as a hand appeared from nowhere and grabbed the boy by the collar…_

_The scene changed, and John watched as events from his life unfolded right in front of his eyes._

XXX

Sherlock was in the great hall not-eating his dinner when the tiny little owl swooped down and deposited a note in front of him. He unrolled it quickly, noting that it was Mrs Hudson's handwriting.

_He's remembered about his father._

Sherlock leapt to his feet and bolted to the hospital wing, ignoring the protests of the people he knocked over.

John was lying miserably on his side, flicking through his scrapbook.

"Hey," said Sherlock. "How are you?"

John just sighed, so Sherlock perched himself nervously on the end of the bed. He wanted to comfort his friend, but he didn't know how.

"When my father died," he said, noticing John's ears prick up, "mother cried for weeks. Any little thing could set her off."

"You never talk about your parents," said John dully. Sherlock looked up in surprise, and John flicked back to the very first picture in the scrapbook. It showed Sherlock in the great hall, smiling a rare, genuine smile. The camera had been a present for John's birthday, and that was the very first picture he took.

"I wrote all about you," said John. "I said that your name was Sherlock Holmes, you were in Slytherin house. You hated sports, idiots, and physical contact. You were intelligent, loved solving puzzles, and according to this we caught a kidnapper together! You spent one Christmas at my house, one in the Hufflepuff dormitories, didn't like it when I became a beater on the que – qui – something team, but leant me your broomstick anyway, and NEVER talked about your parents!"

"This is quite unnerving."

"What, the information? According to this you could tell somebody's life story with one look!"

"You're talking about me in the past tense," said Sherlock softly. "I'm still here."

John pulled his covers up to his chin.

"You were my best friend," he whispered. "So why can't I remember you?"

"It's complicated. Your memory will come back, but you won't understand the explanation until then…"

His eyes flickered over the bedside table, and he practically pounced on the newspaper.

"Mrs Hudson!" he roared, sprinting over to her office. "Did you take these articles?"

There was no answer, but he could hear her breathing behind the door. So she was going to ignore him. Fine…

"Accio articles!" he cried, and the pieces of paper slid under the door and into his hands. He turned, expecting John to be alarmed at the display of magic, but the boy just tutted and raised his eyebrows.

"Sherlock, what have I told you about trying out fourth year spells?" he teased. For a moment Sherlock stood rooted to the spot, frozen by the sight of his friend returned, but in the next moment the image crumbled, and John put a hand to his forehead.

"What was that I just said? I – I can't…"

"Sh," said Sherlock, sitting back on John's bed. Here, read these."

The articles described in some detail the attack on the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed John. "That's me!"

Sherlock grimaced as John studied the photograph. It showed John, Sherlock and Teddy, sprawled out on the grass, laughing. Sherlock could remember the first-year, Carl Powers taking the photograph, but he had long forgotten the joke.

"Why does that boy have blue hair?"

Sherlock laughed as he examined Teddy. If you looked past the vivid turquoise you could see Sherlock's icy eyes in the child's face.

"Is Teddy your brother?"

"No," said Sherlock. "He can change his appearance. Mycroft's _my_ brother."

"Oh, yes," mumbled John. "I think there was a picture of him somewhere…"

"Really?" asked Sherlock, intrigued. "You have a picture of Mycroft?"

John flicked over to a photo of a stunned Mycroft, who had custard dripping off his hair and shoulders. Sherlock burst out laughing.

"What the – when was that? I don't remember that!"

"Nor do I," said John, yawning.

"You can't be tired again!"

"I am," he admitted. "It's only natural. Mum taught me about the effect of traumatic experiences. That was before… before…"

"I know," said Sherlock, leaning forwards to tuck his friend in. "Believe me, I do."

XXX

_The sun's heat was glaring down, but John could not feel it._

"_What's a wanker?"_

_John choked as the foul word passed the seven-year-olds lips. Sherlock also seemed shocked._

"_Where did you hear that?"_

"_He said it when he was sleeping," said Teddy. Trust Sherlock to be a bad influence._

"_What is it?"_

"_My father," Sherlock said. John could see in his eyes that Sherlock wasn't joking._

"_Sherlock," he sighed. "It's a bad word, Teddy. Don't repeat it, okay?"_

"_Okay," he said meekly. John returned to his book, smiling slightly when Teddy badgered Sherlock to help with his jigsaw. The boy had taken an instant liking to him._

_All of a sudden everything went black. There were flashes, hands on him… the darkness was pressing down…_

He woke screaming in the hospital wing. It was dark, but the pale light of dawn was seeping through the windows. He felt calming hands on his shoulders, and recognised the man attached to him.

"Harry P-Potter?"

"That's right," he said. "You're gonna be okay, John, and Sherlock is too."

"Sherlock?" he croaked, looking wildly around. Oh God, his best friend was in the next bed, bruised and bandaged."

"What-"

"He's just unconscious," Harry assured him. "We had an interesting encounter."

John stared, noticing that Harry seemed shaky as well.

_What the hell had happened?_


	5. Chapter 5

**This is the penultimate chapter! There will **_**definitely**_** be a sequel, which I think will be called **_**Family Matters**_**, but I have barely written any of it yet, and it may take a while, as various teachers have just realised that my A-levels are just around the corner…**

**The final chapter is finished too, so I will upload them together!**

**Chapter 5**

John had been asleep for almost a day, and showed no signs of waking up, so Sherlock had bullied, begged, and badgered Harry to help him look for clues that might lead them to the hideout. Harry had eventually agreed to put him with one of the Aurors to search the grounds. He recognised the round-faced man immediately.

"You're Neville Longbottom," he stated. Neville nodded in a resigned manner.

"Sorry about your date last night."

Now he looked shocked. Harry did too. Sherlock smirked at the looks on their faces.

"You went on a date, Neville?" Harry asked. Neville was red in the face.

"Yeah, didn't go too well."

"Susan isn't your type," Sherlock assured him. "But you already know that it's really Hannah you're interested in…" he noticed the stares of the other Aurors, and frowned. "Not good?"

"Okay," interrupted Harry. "That's enough about Neville's private life, Sherlock. Leave your deductions out of this."

"Sure," laughed Sherlock. "Come on then, Longbottom!"

As he bounded away he heard Harry say "Don't worry, he's always like this," and he laughed as the thrill of the chase began to set into his bones. He skidded to a stop when he reached the spot where they had spent that afternoon. The sun was still shining, but the grounds were deserted, all the students being kept inside. The effect was rather eerie.

"This was where they attacked," he told Neville. "There were three of them, two wizards and a witch. The witch had the most skill, but the smaller male was the leader. The second was just brute force."

"How do you-"

"Cast the darkening spell from here… oh, that's interesting, there are traces of some sort of shield. So, they used Peruvian Instant Darkness powder in a magically enclosed space, that's clever. All three were right handed, and wore long black cloaks… except for the leader, who wore red."

"That won't help us catch them."

"No, but it's a start. Where was John found?"

"This way, on the edge of the forest."

"How did Harry find him?"

"He has a map that tells him the name and location of everyone on the Hogwarts grounds. He kept an eye on it, and noticed John's name."

"Wow," said Sherlock thoughtfully. "That's an amazing piece of magic. Where did he get it?"

"Family heirloom," said Neville vaguely. "Here we are, he was found at the base of this tree, collapsed from exhaustion. A trail leads deep into the forest. He was running, obviously distressed, I marked it earlier."

Sherlock observed the red string running from one tree to the next and was silently impressed. Neville didn't have the in-depth knowledge to solve the case, but he was competent and thorough.

"Where does this trail finish?"

"A clearing, it just disappears," he frowned. "The odd thing is, there's no trace of him being taken there. It's just like he appeared out of nowhere. I considered accidental apparition, it is possible in stressful situations, but that wouldn't have been able to transport him onto the grounds."

"I want to see it, the clearing."

"Alright, but stay close, I don't want to be eaten by McGonagall because you've injured yourself."

"As they walked into the forest Sherlock turned to Neville.

"So, in two years Professor Sprout's going to retire. Will you apply for her position?"

Neville blinked, but seemed to accept the situation.

"Probably. I didn't even know she was retiring."

"She hasn't decided it yet, but she will. I think Professor Flitwick will join her."

"Right… seer blood?"

Sherlock laughed. "No."

"Legilimency?"

"Don't give me ideas!" he said teasingly. "Definitely not, I'm just observant."

"Ron put it a bit differently," chuckled Neville. Sherlock laughed again.

"Weasley hates me on principal. Most people do for some reason."

"Can't imagine why."

"No nor me, but if I spill their darkest secrets… I don't mean to, it just comes out."

Sherlock notices Neville giving him an odd look, and reviewed their conversation.

"Oh… you used sarcasm. Never mind. But Weasley is so oblivious, he's going to get quite a shock soon. His wife's pregnant."

"Hermione?"

"Yes, and neither of them have any idea. It's quite amusing."

"I'm not even going to ask," sighed Neville. "This is the end of the trail."

Sherlock darted around the clearing, examining the floor.

"Aha!" he declared suddenly. "A fault line! Thank Merlin John was in a hurry, he didn't have time to collapse the tunnel properly, we can follow it!"

"Tunnel?"

"He has his own heirloom. Do you have a way to follow an underground fracture?"

"I'll call Harry," said Neville, raising his wand.

"There's, no need," Sherlock told him simply. "He's behind that tree."

Neville whipped around, and Harry emerged looking slightly sheepish.

"Sorry."

"Harry-"

"He was keeping an eye on me," Sherlock sighed. "He's been following us ever since we left the others."

"We should get him on the team immediately," muttered Harry darkly. "It usually takes months of training before people can realise they're being tracked."

"Urgh, ministry work," moaned Sherlock. "Dull."

"Well, yes, anyway…"

Harry raised his wand, and a silvery light flowed across the floor. It led them right to the edge of the grounds.

"What the-" gasped Neville. On the edge of the forest was a wide circle of scorched earth.

"This is where they got in and out," explained Sherlock. "They forced their way through the magical barriers."

"Why wasn't there a trail?"

"Obvious, they were riding broomsticks. One of them clipped that tree. So, they kidnapped John on the broomstick, but to get back in he must have fractured the shields again… here."

He slipped through the gap, and motioned for the two Aurors to follow. He could tell Harry was about to order him back to school, so darted ahead before he had the chance.

They walked for an hour, stopping occasionally to send messages to the other Aurors. Harry spent a lot of time talking about something-funny-that-James-had-done, while Sherlock observed them. After a while, a dog patronus bounded up, and spoke with Weasley's voice.

"Harry, we've found the base. It's a small shack about a mile from where you are, and there are three of them. We will stay out of sight and wait for instructions."

"Why are they still there?" wondered Sherlock out loud. "Any criminal with common sense would have cleared out by now."

The Aurors were waiting when they arrived, lurking in the shadows and hidden by disillusionment charms.

"What've we got," whispered Harry.

"Just what the _kid_ said," replied Weasley. "We disabled their wards, and cast some anti-apparition spells over the area, as well as a few physical barriers to stop them escaping on their broomsticks."

"Good work, okay, have everybody surround the place, and approach quietly. It's _vital _that we have the element of surprise. Sherlock, hang back. Wait until we've got them, and then you can do your thing, okay?"

Sherlock nodded and stepped behind a tree.

"Alright, let's move in!"

Sherlock couldn't help being impressed. The Aurors moved with quiet efficiency, and the targets barely had time to get a spell in. A few Aurors were stunned, but in no time at all the three wizards were disarmed and bound. Sherlock took one look at them.

"Smugglers," he decided.

"What?"

"You heard me. We need to search the shack. It's probably just an illegal trade in goblin made items, but they could have something more dangerous."

He wandered inside the little hut, slightly suspicious. This was too easy, why were the smugglers still there? Any sensible criminal would have legged it as soon as John had escaped… did they really put that much faith in their memory wiping abilities?

In the next room he spotted something that made him laugh, it explained everything. He was just about to call Harry when he spotted the trapdoor. All other thoughts pushed aside, he examined it. There was magical protection, but it was childishly easy to remove. He heard Harry enter behind him as he swung the wooden door up…


	6. Chapter 6

**The LAST chapter. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 6**

"There was a dementor down there," finished Harry. "A bloody dementor, it just shot out of the ground. For a minute I was frozen, I've never been… particularly good with dementors, and this was a particularly vicious one. I managed to shoot a patronus at it, but Sherlock was screaming, and before I could stop him he'd fallen into the basement. He was unconscious before he hit the ground, but he was badly injured enough to have Mrs Hudson here threaten me with Skele-Grow…" he chuckled weakly and Mrs Hudson glared at him. "I've got to go, John, but I'll come by later. May even bring a visitor."

OOO

A hours later, Sherlock's eyes flickered open.

Mrs Hudson gasped and immediately dragged him into a sitting position, force-feeding him chocolate. John could hear Sherlock protesting weakly, but noticed that he looked a lot better after a couple of mouthfuls.

"What…" he croaked. "What… I…"

"It's alright, Sherlock," cooed Mrs Hudson. "It was just a dementor."

"John?"

"I'm right here," he said, placing a hand on Sherlock's elbow. His friend relaxed and smiled.

"You are fucking brilliant."

"Um… thanks?"

"I mean it!" grinned Sherlock. "I worked out why they hadn't gone! You stunned them, didn't you?"

"I dunno, I might have done. I still can't remember that night, probably never will."

"But you did! They must have been out, no wonder they were a bit dazed when the Aurors attacked! No offence to Harry, but it shouldn't have been that easy! Anyway, we got them! Three smugglers, fit my estimations perfectly! Didn't factor in the dementors, but that was a bit surprising… I see you've got most of your memory back, that's something."

"Yeah,"

"It has to be more than just smuggling," mused Sherlock. "It wasn't just an attempted kidnapping, there has to be something else."

"Either way, the goblin treaty was a huge success," John told him. "I didn't understand everything Harry was going on about, but I got the gist of it."

"That's good," said Sherlock absently. He was staring intently at the door.

A moment later Mycroft strode in.

"Hello Sherlock, how are you feeling?"

Sherlock stuck out his tongue childishly, and John couldn't help laughing. Mycroft just rolled his eyes, evidently relieved that his brother was obviously so much better.

"Mr Potter is coming back up," he informed them. "And he's bringing Teddy Lupin, and James Moriarty with him,"

"Moriarty?" asked Sherlock. "What's Moriarty doing _here_?"

"Applying for a job, I believe. Our esteemed Transfiguration teacher Professor Macmillan evidently decided that the little incident last week with the enchanted robes was too much, and he is leaving to work for the ministry."

"Bit young to be a teacher isn't he?" frowned John.

"He attained eight outstanding NEWTs and spent a year studying advanced transfiguration, I think he is more than capable. But I'm afraid that I must leave you now, they're holding an extra prefects meeting…"

He broke off as Harry walked in, Teddy scampering behind. Moriarty hovered by the doorway.

"Mycroft," he said.

"James," Mycroft returned. With a slight wave he swept out of the room, nose in the air.

"Who was _that_?" asked Harry with a slightly incredulous expression.

"My brother," scowled Sherlock. "Don't worry; he has that effect on everyone. Hello, Teddy."

The boy grinned, and ran to hug Sherlock.

"Seems you've got an admirer," Moriarty chuckled. "How sweet."

"You got the job, then."

"Oh yes. I'm _Professor Moriarty_ now. I must admit, it has a ring to it."

"Aunty Ginny shrunk your robes," Teddy told Sherlock. "She said I can use them to dress-up, but I can't wear them outside the house."

"You should have seen her face when he turned up wearing them," chuckled Harry. "Oh… wait… Mrs Hudson!" he called as the matron passed through. He followed her into her office.

"I want to be a Slytherin when I grow up," announced Teddy. The other three exchanged glances.

"Er, are you sure, Teddy?" asked Moriarty. "I would have thought you'd want to be a Gryffindor hero like your uncle."

"You sound like the Weasley's," muttered Teddy. "They say that only Gryffindors become heroes, but I said that Sherlock was in Slytherin, and then _Uncle Ron_ got angry."

Sherlock choked when he realised what Teddy was implying.

"Teddy," he said sternly. "Heroes don't exist, and if they did I wouldn't be one."

"But-"

"No buts, and no more talk of being in Slytherin, alright? Your father was a Gryffindor, and your mother a Hufflepuff, you will be more at home in one of those houses."

"Granny was a Slytherin," the little boy whispered.

"Yes, because that's what was expected of her. You, Mr Lupin, are under enough media scrutiny already without surprising everyone at your sorting."

"Right!" said Harry, striding out of Mrs Hudson's office. "Sorry Teddy, but we have to go now."

Teddy nodded miserably, and waved goodbye.

"Cheer up, Teddy!" said John. "Next time, I'll show you the picture of Mycroft covered in custard!"

They all laughed, and when Harry had gone, Sherlock turned on John.

"What _did _happen?"

"You were in the hospital wing after I'd stunned you," John explained. "Mycroft appeared at the Hufflepuff table to complain that I needed to 'exercise proper caution', and Carl decided to attempt to levitate his pudding at _precisely_ the wrong moment… I'm so glad I had that camera."

Moriarty chuckled. "I'm sorry I missed that. I will see you two again in September, I suppose."

"You're going?" asked Sherlock.

"Oh yes, I have… things to do. Congratulations, by the way. That's another mystery solved. I sense a pattern."

"God, I hope not," moaned John, burying his head in his hands. "I'd just like to have a quiet year."

XXX

The end of year feast was as dull and predictable as always, with Gryffindor at the top of the House rankings, and Slytherin firmly at the bottom. Not that Sherlock cared; he always hated the end of term. While he was sat opposite John on the Hogwarts Express, he felt the familiar sinking feeling in his stomach that meant he would be home in a few hours. In a burst of confidence he caught John's eye.

"Will you come and stay this summer?"

"I – what?"

"Please? I don't think I could another summer like the last one. If you stay for the last couple of weeks, we can go to Diagon Alley together."

"I'll think about it and let you know," said John. "I don't want to leave Harry on his own with mum, it wouldn't be fair."

"You can bring him too if you _have _to, but the thought of being penned in with only Mycroft and Mother to talk to…"

"I'll think about it," John said again. "I expect I can come for a week or two, I suppose Harry will want to see some of his friends."

Sherlock took that as a yes, and settled back against the seat.

"That's good. I hate the holidays."

"Yeah, me too," said John quietly. They sat for a while in a comfortable, understanding silence, until Mary wandered in to flirt with John.

He was amazed that John didn't notice. After all, she was being incredibly obvious.

**And that's all! As I said, I **_**will **_**be writing another, and I will tag an update onto this fic when I begin to upload it! But be warned, it may take a while. It will, however, be much longer, funnier, more detailed, and hopefully more exciting than this one, I'm probably going to base it on **_**The Great Game**_**.**

**Until the next time. Please leave comments, I have been overwhelmed by the positive response from both the stories in this series, so thank you!**


	7. UPDATE

**UPDATE**

**The follow on story **_**Family Matters**_** is now being uploaded.**

**Summary: FOLLOW ON FROM BABYSITTING DETAIL. The boys are back for their third year at Hogwarts, but as boggart dredges up old terrors for Sherlock, John is facing nightmares that are very real… Can Sherlock face his demons in time to help his friend? Or will he lose himself along the way…**

**For anyone who's interested, I have also started a series of drabbles in the Sherlock/Whoverse, titled **_**A Mutual Doctor**_**.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, I was really blown away by the positive response. Keep your comments coming!**


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